


Stealing Away

by TheTyphonSerpent



Series: Clan Suledin [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Slice of Life, Trans Character, oc dalish clan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 00:36:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16843612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTyphonSerpent/pseuds/TheTyphonSerpent
Summary: When Ivnar and Lady Bug get into a scuffle, Ivnar finds out that his friend has been keeping a secret from him. Luckily, his nosy little sister has some tricks up her sleeve





	Stealing Away

Ivnar lounged on the back of the aravel.

The ground was rocky, and every step the halla took made the wheels rattle beneath him. One leg, which dangled over the edge, swayed slightly when they went over an especially large rock. He was slouching against the side, bow resting on his lap with an arrow lazily strung and dangling between his fingers.

Bug poked him in the knee. “Hey,” He said.

He stirred just enough to raise his eyebrows, blinking twice in his friends direction.

Bug nodded at a bush as the passed it. “Betcha can’t hit that nug.” The arrow went off with a _thwip_ , embedding itself in the ground beside the nugs rump. The little creature immediately bolted, a pink blur against the rough, dry landscape.

“You’re right, I can’t.” Ivnar grumbled and swing his leg back onto the cart, curling against himself.

Bug tilted his head to one side, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Ivnar mumbled without moving a muscle.

“It ain’t nothin’. You should try shooting things. That’s what cheers me up.”

That made Ivnar shoot up, yellow eyes as sharp as shards of glass. “You get to be happy, _Felassan_.” He snapped, jaw tight, and, Bug visibly flinched at the harsh name. He inhaled as if to say something, but was immediately interrupted by the Keeper’s voice from the head of the convoy.

“Hold!” Sohon called, raising a wrinkled hand, “We’ll set up camp here.”

Hallamas hair trailed behind her as she leaped between Bug and Ivnar, landing on a patch of grass. She was gone between the aravels in seconds.

“Did she have to pee?” Bug asked, his question punctuated by the scuff of Ivnars feet hitting the dirt.

“Where are you going?” Bugs words stopped Ivnar only a few paces from the aravel. Ivnar swiveled and gestured broadly to the convoy, where passengers here and there were already lowering sails and untying ropes. He raised one eyebrow.

“We’re not through with this.” Bug added, arms crossed.

“Whatever.” Ivnar grumbled with an eye roll.

Bug propelled himself off the back of the aravel.

Ivnar stumbled forward a few steps when Bug latched to his back, arms locked around Ivnars shoulders. “I know where you’re ticklish!” Bug taunted just before reaching a hand under one of Ivnars arms. Ivnar squirmed, working an elbow under Bugs ribs so he could jam it into Bugs stomach.

Bug reeled back a half pace and was met with Ivnars fist to his chin. Ivnar jumped onto him like a cat onto its prey, and both elves tumbled to the ground. A nearby halla snorted and attempted to move away from them, only to be caught by the aravel it was still tied to.

Bug jammed a knee into Ivnars stomach, dazing him long enough for Bug to roll them both around. A shout interrupted their scuffle. “Alright, break it up!” A familiar voice bellowed.

Bug felt bony fingers dig into either shoulder and watched as Ivnar was yanked away by his shirt collar. The elf who’d spoken dragged Ivnar back a pace while Arwen held Bug back, her salt-and-pepper hair falling over eyes that glared down at him.

Ivnars eyes were glued to the ground, jaw clenched. There was a smear of dirt on his left cheek. Bug rubbed a sizable bruise on his chin. Ivnar yelped when Elnar, the elf holding him yanked him to his feet by his ear.

“What is the matter with you?” Elnar snapped.

“Sorry, dad.” Ivnar muttered, wincing with pain. Bug dared a glance at the gathering crowd, where Hallama was shrinking back behind her mother, Varrinas back. So that’s where she was off to in such a hurry. Rotten little snitch.

Elnar finally released his son and Arwen loosened her grip on Bugs shoulders. Bug stood and rubbed one of his shoulders.

“I have half a mind to ground both of you. Acting like cats in heat.” Elnar scoffed, his gaze moving between the two of them, “We’re not here to tear each others throats out like the shemlen. We’re better than that.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Bug muttered, cheeks flushing. Elnar had lines on his face that were etched in stone and a demeanor as hard as his gaze. It was hard not to feel guilty when he was scolding you.

“ _You_ should know better.” The older elf growled, arms crosses. His eyes rested on the vallaslin that covered half of Bugs face, dark and not yet faded by age or sunlight. Bug touched his cheek with his fingertips. “And if you,” Elnars eyes returned to Ivnar, “Want to be even considered for the ritual, you had better start acting like you deserve to become an adult.” Ivnars eyes stayed on the ground, though a flicker of something flashed behind them at the scolding. Anger, perhaps? Jealously? Before Bug could place his finger on it, Elnar spoke again, “You’ll both unload the Aravel and then brush and tend to the halla until I tell you to stop. And at some point I had better hear that you two figured things out.”

“Yes, dad.”

“Yes, sir.”

The words were spoken in unison, and Bug was happy to see that most of the clan had gone back to their own business, save for Hallama and Varrina. Elnar wasted no time in storming past the pair and returning to his duties. Varrina took Hallamas hand and ushered her in the same direction.

The moment alone would have been awkward, save for the fact that Ivnar had already turned his attention to the aravel they rode in on. He was untying the ropes in seconds, and Bug was left to follow suit.

The motions were pure muscle memory for the pair. Bug would take the left side of knots and Ivnar would take the right. Ivnar would climb over the cart to throw the ropes to the other side, but Bug would crawl underneath to untie the last of the ropes. Bug would catch whatever Ivnar threw down from the top. Tarps first, then tent covers, bedrolls, furs. The difference here was that where their chore would normally be filled with sly comments and dirty jokes, they now spent the whole task in silence. With each silent minute, the tension grew thicker. When they were done with the first cart, they moved onto separate ones. Ivnar was the first to begin unloading the halla. He stripped one of her bridle and harness, stepped back a pace as she shook her head, then set to work tugging the knots from her fur.

Night fell and Bug had been assigned the task of scraping dirt and peeled paint off the aravels. It meant he was even further away from Ivnar, who’d led a few halla down to the nearby creek for a drink. Hallama approached behind while he was crouched by one of the halla, using a dagger to dig out the dirt caked onto her hooves.

She held out a wood plate bearing a few strips of roast venison and a little pile of berries. Ivnar accepted it with a grateful nod and settled on a nearby rock to eat.

Hallama plopped down on the ground beside him while he was tearing off a bite of the meat with his teeth.

“Lady Bugs upset with you.” She said after a few seconds of silence.

Ivnar scoffed and swallowed his food, “I should be upset with him!”

Hallama scowled, though it was hard for a small child with messy hair to look anything other than cute when she wrinkled her nose in disdain. “You’re so… Dense!”

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“It means you’re stupid! I would know!”

“Oh, yeah? Just what would you know about being stupid?” Ivnar quipped with a smirk.

Hallama stood and crossed her arms, closing her eyes with an all-too-confident humph, “I know how to fix it so you’re both happy. And you’ll still get the apology you want.”

Ivnar shook his head, still smirking. “Tell me then, oh wise peacemaker Hallama. What do you have in mind?”

She brightened, grinning from ear to ear. “You just have to get something for me! A present for Bug, from Val Royeux.”

“From Val Ro- what sort of stories has he been telling you?” Ivnars eyes widened, his face paling with the suggestion.

“Um… This was my idea. I just heard him say it was two hours away on a good mount.”

“Oh, so you’re nosy _and _insane.” Ivnar shoved the now-empty plate into her hands. He yanked the wire brush from his pocket and turned to one of the halla that was still lapping at the water. Most of the herd had wandered off to graze.

The brush passed through the soft fur easily. Hallama came up behind him. She hummed her words like a songbird, “You could be there and back before midnight. Ivnar, come on.” She tugged on the waist of his pants.

“What in Mythals name makes you think this is a good idea?” Ivnar brushed the same spot without looking up.

She leaned back, fingers weaved though his belt as leverage. Ivnar didn’t budge.

“Dad’s busy on a scout and Lady Bug is working on the Aravels,” She sang, shifting her feet from one foot to the next, “And Arwen is having a meeting with Keeper Sohon and no one’s gonna notice a halla wandering off for a few hours.”

He looked down at her over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed. She grinned, two gaps in her smile where baby teeth had fallen out. She tumbled backwards onto her rump, leather belt in her hand, and Ivnar felt a chill.

Grumbling incoherent curses under his breath, he pulled his pants up and snatched the belt from Hallamas hands. “If I say yes will you never suggest anything like this ever again?”

She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Yes, yes, _yes_!”

“I mean it, Hallama! _Never_ again. If dad catches us headed for a shemlen city, we’re dead.”

“Promise! Swear it on my life!”

Ivnar heaved a sigh and pocketed the brush he’d been using before hoisting himself onto the hallas back. He held down a hand to help Hallama climb up.

“There and back. Quick visit. Grab the present and then leave.” He said.

“Quick visit. Promise!” Hallama chimed as she settled into a seat in front of him.

As it turned out, she was right. The huge, glistening towers of Val Royeux came into sight within the hour. Ivnar left the halla to graze in a field outside the main gate. Unlike a horse, she wouldn’t wander far. The halla knew who cared for them.

Hallama swept past the gate like a tiny breeze, her brother following close behind.

It was fortunate, he thought, that the the marketplace was so close to the city’s entrance, or else they may have been stuck wandering until dawn.

Hallama stopped at every store window. She cupped her hands, pressed her face against the glass, and squinted to confirm the contents before moving onto the next store front. Ivnars fingers itched to reach for his bow. Every rustling of bird feathers or echo of his own footsteps had him glancing over his shoulder. He spied the soft glow of a lantern peeking around one corner and took bow out, slinging an arrow just as Hallamas voice whispered, “This one!”

He kept eying the light while he stepped backwards to where she was standing. Only when the glow faded and he was in front of the door did he finally sheath the arrow and try the handle.

“They’re closed.” He said, nodding to the padlock that barred their entry.

Hands on her hips, Hallama raised one eyebrow.

Sighing, Ivnar rolled his eyed and fished a lock pick from his pocket.

“This had better be worth it.” He muttered as he worked the thin strip of metal against the lock pins. It clicked open within seconds. Orlesians, it seemed, weren’t known for complex locks.

The door opened with a creek. Ornate dresses lined every wall, some proudly displayed on mannequins with a few pieces of jewelry thrown in for decoration. The back wall sported sketches of dress designs and a lock box on the counter, alongside rows of needles and thread.

Hallama was already pushing past Ivnar and running into the shop.

“This is… A women’s clothing store.” He voiced slowly.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Thought we were shopping for Bug.”

“What’s Bugs name?”

“Felassan?”

“Not his dead name! His real name. The full one.”

“Lady … Bug?” Ivnars cheeks flushed with immediate realization. His eyes widened before lowering to the ground. “Oh.” He breathed. Hallama paid him no mind. She was already lifting the hem of one of the gowns on display, rubbing her fingers on the material.

He heard boots hitting stone outside and swiveled to face the door, fingers twitching as he reached for an arrow and paused with his hand poised behind his back.

“This one’s nice. She’d like the acorns on it.” She said. He didn’t bother turning to look. His eyes were fixed on lantern glow that had returned to the square outside.

“I’m sure it’s fine. Just pick one.” He hissed.

“You’re supposed to help! Otherwise what’s the point?”

Ivnar rolled his eyes and swiveled to see the dress. It was a slim piec with ruffled layers forming the skirt and acorns and vines embroidered along the neckline. He picked up the fabric and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. He’d never seen silk before, but he’d heard about how it was soft and slippery.

“It’s fine. Let’s go.” He whispered.

“We should pick up some jewelry, too.”

"Hallama …”

Ivnar has barely growled the warning when a voice bellowed from the street.

“Halt! Who goes there!”

His warning quickly turned into a swear, “Fenedhis.”

Hallama yanked the dress down, causing the mannequin to fall with a loud clatter. “Run!” She shouted, then darted out the door with yellow silk and ruffles trailing behind her.

He had little choice but to follow, though he kept his bow in one hand. He saw the glint of heavy armor from the corner of his eye, shining from the lantern in the guards hand. He shouted again, though the pair were well on their way to the gate by then.

The guards metal boots clanged against the stone streets with every step. He was trying to match their pace, but that armor was slowing him down. Ivnar dared a glance over his shoulder. The tall, lumbering human was several paces behind them now, and they were putting more distance between them with every pace.

Horses raised their heads when the two elves darted past the stables that were outside the city gates. Ivnar could see the familiar white hallas figure in the nearby field, her head bent to graze the grass there. He put his fingers to his lips, and the halla raised her head when he whistled.

She trotted up to meet them. Hallama threw the dress across the hallas neck.

She grasped the creatures fur in her hands and tried pulling herself onto her back, causing the halla to release an indignant bray. Ivnar came up behind and pushed Hallama up onto the hallas back before leaping on just behind her. The guards footsteps were softer in the grass. Ivnar hitched the halla into motion. He found himself grinning, caught Hallama sporting an equal smile. As the halla sprinted away, he finally took a good look at the guard behind them. Doubled over, huffing and puffing and well aware of the fact that he couldn’t outrun a halla. Ivnar caught himself laughing while the city spires grew smaller behind them.

The halla eventually slowed to a steady trot. He still sported a grin, and to accent the mood Hallama broke the silence with a giggle.

Her laughter, it seemed, was contagious. As her giggles grew in intensity, his own low chuckles joined until they were both doubling over, the halla paying no mind to her giggle-struck passengers.

Ivnar caught Hallama in a headlock and noogied her hair with his fist.

“Never again, brat. If we don’t talk to the shemlen, then we definitely don’t buy ball gowns from them.”

“Stealing ball gowns is fine, though, right?”

Ivnar glanced at the stars while he chewed on the question. “Sure,” He decided,

“Just this once, stealing ball gowns is fine.”

She scoffed, “Not like they would have traded furs and leathers for a gown anyway.”

“It’s… Probably better to leave trading to Keeper Sohon and Arwen. Shems can’t be trusted. Besides, it’s not practical. Trading perfectly useful furs for something soft and fragile.”

He ran his thumb along the embroidery. Ivnar could see the creek approaching along with the halla who grazed by it. Tufts of white fur against a sea of dark grass. Hallama scoffed, “Bug won’t think so. You can ask him yourself.” With that, she wiggled until she could swing one leg over and hopped off the halla. She wasted no time in hurrying back to the camp, leaving Ivnar alone with the herd and his stolen prize.

Lady Bug was on the edge of the camp, leaning up against an aravel, her mouth hung wide in a snore while a rag hung loosely from one hand. Ivnar steered the halla up next to her, purposely letting his boots hit the ground hard when he dismounted. Bug stirred and yawned as she woke, rubbing an eye with her palm.

“Hey.” Ivnar said. She grumbled something incoherent, though Ivnar could swear he heard the word ‘jerk’ sprinkled in there.

“Whatever you just said, I probably deserved it. Here.” He pulled down the dress and thrust it into Bugs face, “I wanted to give you this.”

Bug squinted at the dress with an incredulous look, not so much as raising a finger in response. “That was Hallamas idea, wasn’t it?” She said. Ivnar cringed, “Is it obvious?”

Bug snorted a laugh. “Sneaky brat. Asked me to tell her 'bout when I was living in Val Royeux. Let slip that I used to go to the marketplace and look the dresses in the windows. You? You never would’ve thought of somethin’ like this.”

His eyes went downcast and the hand holding out the dress lowered by a few inches. “Well,” He added, “I also wanted to say… I’m sorry.”

One of Bug eyebrows very slowly raised. She reached out and took the dress from Ivnar. Dropping the rag she’d been holding, she spread it out in her lap, fingertips gently brushing the embroidery.

Ivnar sat across from her, legs crossed. “You should have told me sooner. I never would have called you by that name if I’d known. Even if I was angry. I’m sorry. For that. And for punching you.”

She let out a short, breathy laugh. “No, I’m sorry. When you get like that I shouldn’t assume shootin’ nugs is gonna fix it.” She had moved on to touching the skirt now, thumbing through the layers of lace that made it poofy. “Where’d you even get this?” She asked.

“Don’t ask.” He said, throwing up his arms, “As it is I’m going to scrub the aravels for a month after Dad sees that thing. I just hope the guard didn’t put together that we were Dalish because if he shows up here in the morning, I’m dead.”

She laughed, a familiar snort through the nose, making her cover her mouth like she always did. “I’m sure you’re fine.” She said, wiping a tear away with her thumb, “Thank you, Ivnar. I’ve no idea when I’m gonna wear it, but thank you.”

Ivnar flashed a tiny, stiff smile. “You could try it on now if you want.”

Her expression rapidly cycled between several emotions. First, sheer terror, then shock, bewilderment, and finally her eyebrows perked in a tiny spark of curiosity. “Y-you really think it’s okay?”

“I didn’t go through all that trouble just to steal you the wrong size. I wanna see how it looks.” He said, still smiling.

It took a few minutes for them to move far enough away from camp that Bug was comfortable. Even so, she made Ivnar turn his back and wait on the opposite side of the thicket where she’d chosen to change. He had his arms crossed, leaning against a tree while he listened the rustle of fabric and the occasional snap of a twig.

Her voice, trembling slightly, sounded from behind the thicket, “Y-you gotta promise you won’t laugh.” To which he rolled his eyes and kicked off the tree to spin around, “Oh Creators, just come out already. I don’t care.”

He could hear the rustle of skirts and the drag of leaves against the ground. The dress was entirely too long for her, and the silk pooled around her feet and dragged behind her as she walked. Scoffing, she glanced down and grabbed a handful of fabric, but stopped when she caught Ivnar staring.

The moonlight bathed her and washed out the deep yellow of the dress, turning it into a pale gold and making the vines and acorns stand out all the more. It would seem they were meant to frame breasts, but on Bug they were just a bit wrinkled.

“It’s loose here.” She muttered, tugging at the low neckline. When he kept staring, her already red cheeks flushed even further. She clutched her arms to her chest. “It’s that bad?” She asked.

Ivnars eyes snapped back into focus, “Huh? No! You… You look pretty.”

Her mouth hung open a bit. She was staring at the ground, still holding herself. He approached and took a wrist in each hand, prying her arms apart. “We can look for some cotton plants while we’re on the road tomorrow. Or maybe if we catch a ram I can sheer some of it’s wool. We’ll fill it out, don’t worry.”

Bug sniffled and tugged a hand away to wipe her eye, “Guess when I’m invited to one o’ them fancy Orlesian balls, I’ll have somethin’ to wear.” He ran his thumb over her wrist. “We’ll have to get you some evening gloves, then. Maybe a necklace? Hallama wanted to get you some jewelry, but it didn’t work out.”

She chuckled, snorted, and covered her mouth. It was then that Ivnar remembered the wire brush in his pocket. Removing it, he made a motion for her to turn around. When she obeyed, he started brushing her hair. It was shorter than his, a messy straight bowl cut that barely went past her ears, but the tangles worked out with ease, and he discovered for the first time a little natural bob at the tips.

“I don’t know what it was like in the alienage,” He added, “But it isn’t that way here. You know Dad considers you one of his own. We’ll accept you. No matter what.”

He embraced her from behind, smiling. She beamed back, “I ain’t seen you this happy in days.”

For once, his smile didn’t falter at those words. “I guess I’ll just have to steal you gifts more often.”


End file.
